PrickLy heAt

by grimbeau




Approaching six ye olde bells
From an obtuse crimson angle
Poised to emphasize
birdsong unfurling charcoal
lamp light found flagging
old stone rolls over moist
Far distant dawn horizon
Difficult it is to view
The world disappear
From more of a distance
Than I do at present—
David Hume wrote that just once
While dying before
Social media cropped up
In the blink of an eye
At the press of a button…
Quite out of the blue
Extends as far as
the third eye can see

start the week with off
an epic why not
see a fine lady upon
a white horse called Uffington
over the style follow the path
sidestepping all the sheep shit
till you come on an eye socket
full of wastepaper
and suburban terrorists
dropping crap in droves
on this hill of ancient times
traffic jam & Jerusalem
lacking investment
except for more golf courses
built by subhuman eyesores
say let’s call it Bunker Hill!